


Auntie

by LiquidCaliban



Series: Families of Choice [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, Natasha meets the Bartons, clintasha friendship, pre-avengers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-28 18:24:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18761914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiquidCaliban/pseuds/LiquidCaliban
Summary: Natasha acquires her favorite title.





	Auntie

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing and gain nothing but self-satisfaction from the writing and posting of fic. 
> 
> Spoilers: Generalized MCU canon.
> 
> Summary: Natasha is invited to the Barton farm for the first time, with ensuing feelings.

“No, I know that…it’s not that…it’s that she’s been stuck here for months with nothing but missions. I just think she should…she’s not gonna…do you really think I would… Okay… Yeah, _of course_ Fury agreed… Hopefully we’ll be there in a day or two… You too. Bye.”

Natasha cocked her head as Clint disconnected his call with an audible huff. She’d been watching him in the gym rafters for the past ten minutes as she ran on a treadmill, animatedly texting then talking on his cell phone while everyone else working out in the room had been oblivious. The room had cleared out considerably when she had made her appearance half an hour before, so perhaps it was just a function of fewer observers. It was less awkward than visiting the SHIELD cafeteria, anyway; she had started eating at off-hours after terrifying the lunch rush on consecutive days barely two weeks after her arrival. Only a few STRIKE agents were arrogant enough to stick around in her presence. She recognized the two by the free weight benches as Rumlow and Rollins, who struck her more as blunt objects than men. Luckily, they had already learned about her strict ‘look, don’t touch’ policy. And Fury _had_ asked her not to break any more bones for a while.

She ran for a few more minutes before executing a perfect flip off the treadmill and swinging into a seat on the steel beam beside Clint. She nonchalantly tossed her ponytail over her shoulder and said, “Hey.”

To his credit, Clint didn’t react with surprise. “Oh, hey. You got some hops there.”

She smiled. She really did like Clint. For all her experience with people, she hadn’t met many she respected that she could also casually talk to without pretense. It was going to be hard when he inevitably betrayed her and she had to kill him. For now she had settled on enjoying the camaraderie of a peer. She gave him a gentle nudge with her shoulder. “I figured you weren’t gonna come down on your own, so I came up.”

“You just did your best Mary Lou Retton impression for little ol’ me?”

“Nadia Comăneci,” she corrected with a shrug before she raised her voice to continue, “Rumlow’s had more than enough time to stare at my ass for one day. I’m sure he’ll have plenty to think about jerking off in the shower later.”

“Fuckin’ bitch.” Rumlow’s murmur carried up to where she was sitting, but he did leave abruptly without stretching or cooling down. She could always introduce her knee to his balls in the parking garage later when he wasn’t expecting her. That wasn’t technically breaking a bone. She smirked at the thought. Happy as she had been to trade the disintegrating, archaic KGB for an agency that was likely to endure, the isolation policy at SHIELD headquarters was really starting to chafe. She had been allowed to participate in multiple missions over the six months she had been here, but she still had to stay in the Triskelion if not explicitly tasked or accompanied on brief errands by a high level agent, which usually meant Clint taking her to Target to buy shampoo, though Agent Hill had escorted Natasha to Bloomingdale’s on one occasion to buy clothing that didn’t do her much good, trapped in the building as she was.

She could get out anytime she chose, of course, but she’d decided to prove herself trustworthy. And if she was trustworthy enough to leave the building on official missions, why couldn’t she be trusted to live somewhere else in the city? Fury had brushed off her suggestion of a tracking anklet with a raised eyebrow and inquiry about whether or not she was allergic to cats. She had shrugged and told him she would actually have gotten a ferret to strap it to once she’d slipped out of it. Weasels were less predictable than felines, most of whom would likely just lie down for a nap the moment the food-slave disappeared.

At least Fury had promised to review her situation. He seemed to understand that orders weren’t enough to keep her in a place she didn’t want to be. He was going to be harder to kill if the time came. When. When the time came.

Clint suddenly asked, “Feel like getting out of the Triskelion for a couple weeks?”

“Of course. What’s the mission?”

“No mission. Vacation.”

“Uh huh. And what are our objectives on this _vacation_?”

“Relax. Hang out. Eat some home cooking. Drink beer. Or vodka, I’m not picky.”

His insistence was beginning to test her patience. “Seriously, Clint.”

“I’m being serious. Fury’s worried you’re gonna go even more nuts cooped up here, so I offered to take you someplace quiet for a little downtime. You good with that?”

She considered him for a moment. If he had been assigned to kill her, it was stupid to take her to another location and give her any number of potential opportunities to escape rather than just killing her in one of the most secure buildings on the planet, unless he had been ordered to handle her and he was planning to give her the chance to get out of a bad situation. Again. She settled on trusting Clint, for now. “Sure. I could use a little fresh air.”

The smile she got in return was different than his usual smile, lighting up his eyes in a new way. “Hey, be ready, ‘cause you’re gonna get the freshest there is.”

Natasha had no idea how to interpret that statement, outside of him forcing her to drop her guard due to oxygen intoxication.

* * *

 

After leaving Dulles, they had taken two commercial flights, three rental cars and a pickup truck hidden in backwoods garage to arrive at their apparent destination, a farmhouse in rural flyover country. In spite of her extensive training through the Red Room, Natasha had always agreed with coastal America’s view of the heartland. Cornfields, cornfields, and more cornfields. What a man like Clint Barton could see in a place like…

Oh! Aah.

She stood by the door of the nondescript non-rental pickup, watching as he embraced a brunette bearing a baby on the porch of the rambling white house before he pretended to fight off the advances of a little boy he eventually picked up with a hearty swing. He had told her where they were headed, of course, but she had held tight to the premise that he was lying to her for unknown purposes until they had actually arrived at the house. Now she was just uncomfortable; she wasn’t the kind of person anyone wanted to introduce to their families.

Clint, for his part, was more comfortable than she’d ever seen him at SHIELD or in the field as he led the brunette over to the truck. “Laura, this is Natasha, my friend from work I told you about. Nat, this is my wife, Laura, and the baby is Lila.”

Natasha tried not to stiffen up as the woman pulled her into a hug rather than shaking the hand she’d extended. “Welcome to our home! Clint doesn’t usually bring friends around, so it’s good to meet someone who has his back.”

Shockingly, Natasha found herself speechless. She did manage to hug Laura back, even if she didn’t come up with something appropriate to say once the hug was over. At least the baby didn’t cry when she’d unintentionally jostled it. _Her_. Babies were not objects. She was abruptly distracted by the small boy, who was tugging on the sleeve of her leather jacket, hopefully not with sticky fingers.

“Hi. I’m Cooper.”

“Hello.” Aware that she should probably add something, she said, “I’m Natasha. You can call me Nat.”

“Hi, Nat.” Cooper sized her up for a moment before asking, “You like Pokémon?”

Natasha didn’t have much experience with children beyond training some junior agents in the Red Room who probably didn’t really count as children in the traditional sense. For all her expertise in manipulating adult marks, she was woefully underprepared to handle children. In fact, the only extended time she’d spent with actual children had been a six-week stint as a nanny for a wealthy St. Petersburg family whose patriarch was smuggling weapons without giving her bosses their cut. His three- and five-year-old children had gotten uncomfortably attached to her, constantly demanding cuddles and reassurance. She had extricated herself from the situation by intentionally exposing her affair with her nominal boss’ right hand man once she had all the intel she needed, then used her firing as an excuse to drop Dmitri to tie up all the loose ends. The moron had been almost as obsessed with her as those children. Poor little Tatiana and Boris had cried for weeks after her departure. (Not that she had really followed up on the assignment.) Regardless, she hoped Clint’s son wasn’t going to turn out like that.

She blinked at him, remembering he had asked a question about the Pokémon. “I only know the electric hamster.”

“Pikachu? Yeah, I like Pikachu. Charizard is my favorite, though.”

“That is…some sort of fire-breathing dragon?” she guessed.

“Yeah! You wanna see my toys?” Cooper seized her hand and pulled her toward the house. “I got lotsa action figures and stuff. I’m not supposed to watch SpongeBob because it’s bad for my brain, but Dad lets me and I have the movie on DVD, but that’s a secret. I also have lotsa Legos that we can use to build…”

“Coop!” Clint called.

The boy was cut off as he looked toward his father. “What?”

“Let Nat get settled and use the bathroom before you take her hostage, huh?” Clint thankfully grasped her elbow and led her toward the stairs, away from the wide-eyed excitement of his son. She had an odd sensation of loss as she walked away, but it was gone by the time Clint pushed her past the landing. “Guest room’s upstairs. You have to share a bathroom with the kiddo, but you should be fine as long as you remember to either put the seat down or wipe it off because he didn’t inherit my aim.”

She found her regular sense of herself return as she was alone with Clint. “Isn’t that more a developed skill than natural talent?”

“Eh, lil’ of both.” He opened a door at the end of the hallway on a homey room, or what would be traditionally defined as a homey room by HGTV, which she sometimes kept on as white noise while she read in her tiny cell of a room. (She received only basic channels in the Triskelion and hadn’t bothered to hack into the network to get an expanded package as a measure of her trustworthiness, regardless of the fact that she had absolutely hacked the secure mainframe because…habits?) Unaware of her inner monologue, Clint set her bag on the bed and turned expectantly. “Laura set out some towels on the dresser there, and if you need anything…”

“This is very nice,” she replied, hating the odd robotic quality in her voice.

He didn’t take it personally. “I know I said we’re here for two weeks, but if it’s too much we can always…”

“No.” Uncomfortable as she was, she knew that Clint was sacrificing precious time with his hidden family to help her, get her away from the suffocating atmosphere of SHIELD for a few weeks. The least she could do was make an effort. “I just…need a few minutes.”

“Take all the time you want. Dinner’s at six, though, and no one delivers out here. Not that we wouldn’t heat something up for you, but…”

“I know, Clint. Thank you.”

He nodded and shot her a small smile. She liked that she didn’t have to explain things to him, even if he had suddenly morphed into a whole new person. Or not a new person – he’d just revealed dimensions she hadn’t previously suspected. She flopped back on the bed with a sigh. The two hours prior to dinner were spent in existential crisis staring at the ceiling of the guest room. As if dealing with children wasn’t hard enough on its own.

* * *

Dinner consisted of a confusingly-named but palatable main dish called chicken fried steak with sides of mashed potatoes, corn on the cob and green beans that had Natasha feeling extremely heavy by the time she stood from the table. In spite of the two beers and three glasses of wine she’d had, she offered to do the dishes, which Laura gratefully accepted while Clint cajoled Cooper upstairs for bathtime. The unexpected turn of events left Natasha in the kitchen with Laura, who was sitting at the table as she nursed baby Lila.

Natasha tried to focus on the plates she was scrubbing rather than the strangely frightening woman sitting behind her. There was obviously no contest of strength or skill. Natasha was clearly the deadlier, more dangerous woman in the room. She had two firearms, six Widow’s Bite discs and three blades hidden under her casual jeans and hoodie combo _right now_. So why did she feel so vulnerable?

As she set the last plate in the drying rack and moved on to the silverware, Laura cleared her throat. “So, Clint tells me you’re originally from Russia?”

It was a good leadoff question for an interrogation, revealing just enough known information to prompt uncertainty in an inexperienced subject. Natasha just nodded. “Yes, that’s right.”

There was an extended silence, punctuated only by the clink of utensils against the porcelain of the sink and the sucking sounds that the baby made. Laura eventually continued, “You know, this doesn’t have to be awkward. Clint told me that you used to work for the Russians but that you defected to SHIELD. He didn’t give any detail beyond that, but I know he wouldn’t have brought you here if he didn’t trust you.”

“I won’t hurt you and I won’t betray you,” Natasha honestly confirmed, scrubbing between the tines of a fork. No matter how Clint was sure to betray her in the future, she refused to use his family as a bargaining chip. She had promised herself that she was beyond that. “I understand if you’d prefer I leave so you can enjoy Clint’s visit.”

Laura actually laughed. “Oh, we see him plenty. Nick is kind enough to make sure he has a lot less solo missions than anyone thinks. And he did _ask_ if he could bring you around.”

“Oh.” Natasha drained the sink and emptied the strainer before refilling it to wash the glassware. She could at least be an unobtrusive guest. “Well, thank you for having me.”

“Thank _you_ for being a good partner.” She thought it was just a general statement brought on by whatever vague things Clint had told his wife, but Laura went on, “He told me he would have died on a bridge on Budapest if not for you.”

“That’s classified information,” Natasha replied, shocked that Clint would reveal such sensitive mission-related details. “You don’t have clearance for that.”

“Nick knows enough to have granted us a little spousal privilege. I don’t think it’s something he usually extends to anyone, but since he helped us set up our home as a secure site when Clint asked him to…” She raised the baby to her shoulder and began to tap her back gently. “Besides, all he said was that the woman he was bringing along on this trip was the one who made sure had has scars rather than a monument in the family plot following that mission.”

“He still shouldn’t be sharing that much.”

“Natasha, it’s not a problem. I know my husband has a dangerous job and I know he does it so that the world will be better for Cooper and Lila when they grow up.” The baby on her shoulder suddenly let loose a surprisingly loud burp. “He tells me small things so I won’t be paralyzed with fear every time he leaves. I never hear about anything until after the fact, but it still makes me feel better about the future. You, for example.”

This woman was obviously deranged. “Okay. I think I should…”

“Don’t look at me like that. My husband trusts you with his life, so _I_ trust you with him. It’s not so hard to understand.”

“You don’t even know me. You know nothing about me, about what I’m capable of.”

Laura just smiled her serene smile. “I know you’re capable of saving your partner from ruthless men with automatic weapons when you’ve got minimal cover.” She cradled the yawning baby in her arms. “And I know that if you were going to put us in danger, he wouldn’t have brought you here.”

Natasha found herself unable to respond in a meaningful way. “I think I’ll get some sleep. Thank you for dinner.”

* * *

Things at the farm remained just on the other side of awkward for the next few days, with both Clint and Laura being unfailingly nice while Natasha maintained her distance and suspicion. She was fairly certain that they were being genuine, which only increased her consternation regarding their real designs. She could comfortably deal with liars, mercenaries, spies, double agents, assassins, commandos, con artists, master manipulators…but nice people? She had no idea what motivated them or what they were hiding.

Strangely, she felt most comfortable around Cooper, who was too young to be hiding an agenda and was therefore mostly concerned with showing her how to play with his toys the ‘right way’ and how to make sure the chickens were properly tended. (His number one tip was, “Chickens won’t drink poop water but also scratch poop into the water bowl, so you have to clean it every day, at least.”) She was pleased to find that it was easy to deal with a semi-independent boy with a mind of his own, even if she could spot at least several fatal flaws she wasn’t going to exploit in the attack his Power Rangers were currently executing on the Hot Wheels garage set she had been assigned to protect with Ninja Turtles.

Clint dropped onto the couch to watch the action as Cooper carefully started placing plastic weapons in his action figures’ hands. “Wait, are the Turtles or the Power Rangers the good guys here?”

“The Ninja Turtles got brainwashed by Hannah Montana and now the Power Rangers hafta save them from her evil clutches in her secret base,” Cooper stated as if it should have been obvious. “So they hafta be careful not to hurt the Ninja Turtles ‘cause they’re all really good friends.”

“Where’d you pick up something like ‘evil clutches’?”

Natasha was furiously searching her memory for using such an inappropriate(?) phrase around the boy, but he just said, “Dad, evil clutches is the prison pit where bad guys are always trapping good guys! Like when Robin falls into the Joker’s evil clutches and the Krabby Patty recipe falls into Plankton’s evil clutches!”

“Ah, gotcha,” Clint replied easily, never having sent an accusatory glance at Natasha. “So I guess you’re probably too busy to go fishing with me?”

The toys were forgotten on the floor as Cooper leapt to his feet and shouted that he would get his galoshes. Pushing herself off the floor, Natasha joined Clint on the sofa. “I hope you didn’t suggest that just because you thought I needed rescuing.” She pointed to a small pile of plastic pizza in the carwash section of the playset. “I’ll have you know that I was provisioned for a long siege in the evil clutches garage.”

“Nah, I promised him I’d take him on a boys’ trip while I was home. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Uh, no. Not at all.” She had been alone with Laura multiple times since arriving at the farm. Granted, Clint hadn’t ever been off the property, but… She followed him to the hallway, where he began digging poles out of the closet. “Where are you heading? Have you been hiding a fishing spot on this farm, too?”

“Just a little creek about fifteen minutes away. Never catch anything bigger than some little chubs or shiners, so don’t expect us to bring home dinner. Laura’s had some ribs marinating since yesterday anyway. Wouldn’t want to miss those.”

“I’m gonna catch a big one today!” Cooper proclaimed as he suddenly appeared, wearing his previously mentioned rubber boots along with a khaki vest and matching bucket hat, both decorated with colorful fishing lures. “Nat, you don’t mind that there’s no girls allowed, right?”

“Of course not. We can finish the battle to save the turtles from Anna Montana later.”

“ _Hannah_ Montana,” he corrected, “but she’s evil, so it’s okay. Hey, we could start calling her something that rhymes to make fun of her! What’s worse than banana?”

“Why don’t we ponder that on the ride to the creek, huh?” Clint suggested, shooing Cooper out the door.

And just like that, Natasha was alone in the Bartons’ house. Or, not alone. She knew that Laura was upstairs resting after getting the baby down for a nap. She reflected that getting Cooper out of the house probably had as much to do with letting his mother rest as keeping a promise. Natasha wasn’t going to begrudge Clint quality time with his son. Besides, she could take this opportunity to poke around and finally establish his ulterior motives in inviting her here.

* * *

An hour of diligent searching later, Natasha had scanned everything from family photo albums to copies of tax records to old circus programs that promoted the astounding targeting skills of the amazing Hawkeye. She returned to the kitchen to sit at the table and consider her findings, or lack thereof. There was absolutely nothing that told her why Clint might have brought her to this place beyond an actual desire to introduce her to his loving family. It didn’t make sense.

She nearly jumped as the rotary phone mounted on the wall rang with a shrill ringing bell. God, she was on the set of a black and white American sitcom like one of the ones she’d been forced to watch in the Red Room to work on her accent. She contemplated answering it, but the ringing ceased halfway through its next cycle. Less than a minute later, she heard footsteps upstairs that indicated Laura was awake. She would probably come downstairs in a few minutes with the baby on her hip, eager to continue making friends in her disturbingly open way.

Natasha did not expect, however, for Laura to appear in the kitchen fully dressed with a purse over her shoulder. “Nat, I am so sorry about this, but I have to run over to my friend Sandy’s place. Their horses got out and she and her husband need someone to watch the kids while they round them up.”

“Laura, I…”

“Shouldn’t be more than an hour, at most. They’ve been talking about mending that fence for months and… Anyway, the baby’s still sleeping and she should be fine until I get home, but if she gets fussy, you can rock her or put on music or something.”

“I really shouldn’t…”

“Thanks so much!” With that, Laura was out the door and into the family station wagon, kicking up dust as she drove toward the road.

Okay. This was okay. The baby was asleep and Natasha could simply sit quietly until Laura or Clint and Cooper returned. If she didn’t make any noise, she wouldn’t disturb the baby and there would be no reason to…

A loud wail suddenly carried down to the kitchen. She waited for a moment to see if it was an aberration, but another, louder wail followed.

Well. Fuck. As she made her way upstairs, she grumbled, “Нахуя мне это надо?”

She felt like she understood Cooper, had bonded with him even by being a willing playmate. The baby, however… She had held Lila on exactly two occasions and the baby had burst into loud protests both times. Natasha couldn’t blame the little girl, who could probably sense how inherently wrong it was for the Black Widow to be holding a baby outside of working hours. She stepped into the bright yellow nursery room to see that Lila was now flailing her little arms and legs in addition to crying in earnest.

“Okay, okay. I know you don’t like me, but…” She grabbed the baby’s ankles to lift up her legs. “Can I change you or something?” She quickly checked under the onesie, but found a dry diaper. She knew that Lila was still breastfeeding, but that she was also taking some solid foods. She made sure not to grasp too tightly as she picked up the baby under her armpits. “Um, can I get you some applesauce? Clint, um, your Dad, _Daddy_ gave you that the other day, right?”

Lila’s face contorted as she cried even harder. Natasha realized that she shouldn’t just be holding the baby at arm’s length. She pulled her closer, trying to cuddle her as she’d seen both Clint and Laura do. The crying continued unabated.

What had Laura said? Natasha immediately started to rock Lila aggressively to no effect. What else? Music, right. She spotted a radio on the bureau, but it refused to work no matter what buttons she pushed. “So, what do you like, hmm?” Flicking through the CDs beside the radio, she found a lot of Classical as interpreted for infants. She tried humming the finale from _Swan Lake_ , but Lila continued to cry.

Neither Beethoven’s Piano Sonata No. 14 nor Satie’s _Gymnopédie_ No. 1 had any effect. Natasha felt like she might be ready to cry as well. “What do you want from me?” As a last resort, she tried the only other song that sprang to mind in the heat of the moment, “Remember those walls I built? Baby they’re tumbling down. They didn’t even put up a fight, they didn’t even make a sound…”

To her relief, Lila settled down. “Oh, you like Beyoncé?” She continued singing _Halo_ as she sank into the rocking chair. Happy burbles accompanied _If I Were a Boy_ and _Irreplaceable_. Natasha shifted to _Umbrella_ when she realized she didn’t know any other Beyoncé ballads and found that Lila was also a Rihanna fan.

She had transitioned into _Take a Bow_ some time later when Laura appeared in the doorway. “Ah, you discovered her weakness for pop divas. Mariah Carey or Whitney Houston probably would have done it, too, but just so you know, she’s also susceptible to the Beatles. And I can’t tell you how many times Clint has sung through _American Pie_ for her, though he usually changes the words to ‘this’ll be the day we eat pie.’”

“I don’t know all the lyrics to that one, but I could do something by the Beatles,” Natasha replied as she carefully stood and handed a happy baby Lila over to Laura. “She’s not wet, but I have no idea if she’s hungry.”

“Singing wouldn’t have worked if she was hungry. She just wanted some attention,” Laura said confidently as she hefted the contented baby to her shoulder. “Thanks for keeping an eye on her.”

“Not a problem,” Natasha lied. It would absolutely have been a problem if a magically appropriate song hadn’t popped into her head and she’d had to contend with an inconsolable baby, but she’d gotten lucky. Incredibly lucky because she’d happened to be listening to the Top 40 radio they played in the SHIELD gym recently. “Thanks for suggesting music. It really helped.”

She jogged downstairs before Laura could offer any other reasons that Lila may have been consoled. Babies did not respond to the Black Widow for no reason. Babies needed selfless love and care and affection. Babies did not like her. She looked toward the sink but discovered that she’d already done all the dishes. She went out the back door and stood on the porch, breathing in the clean country air. Spotting a picnic table in the field, she walked toward it and sat down.

It was nice just to be outside because she had made the choice to leave the house. She was going to have to speak to Fury about her next steps when she got back to SHIELD, beginning with living somewhere other than the Triskelion. Even if she wasn’t picturing the kind of life Clint had built for himself here, she could certainly envision some kind of independent existence for herself.

Couldn’t she?

* * *

Natasha was still sitting on the picnic table considering her life choices when Clint’s pickup truck rumbled into the driveway, the sun just visible over the tree line. She heard Cooper running into the house to brag about the fish he’d caught, but there was a telltale crunch of gravel somewhere behind her. Clint leapt over the table and mirrored her position, leaning forward with his forearms propped on his knees. “Don’t know if you’re gonna be able to finish the war against Banana Alabama – he came up with that one – because he’s gonna be reenacting his fight with the fish all night.”

“I look forward to a retelling of _Moby-Dick_ or _The Old Man and the Sea_?”

“You sure you didn’t go to college?”

As if she didn’t have enough regrets already. “Clint…”

“Yeah, sorry. Anyway, Coop caught a ten-inch brook trout that’ll probably be three feet long and worthy of competitive titles by the time you hear the story and he’s fighting it to the death on the banks of the Mississippi.”

“Sounds impressive.”

“Yeah, wait’ll you hear it from him, complete with the performance art.”

She laughed in spite of herself. “You’ve got a really good thing here, Clint.”

“Yep. I’m guessing you’re gonna tell me it’s not for you, though?”

“Not this, no. It’s…it’s nice, but it’s not for me.”

“Because you don’t want it or because you don’t think you deserve it?”

She took a deep breath, but was only able to reply with a plaintive, “Clint…”

“Hey, I know this isn’t everyone’s ideal situation. If you wanna get an apartment in Manhattan and go out clubbing every night or settle down as the one weird young’n in a Florida retirement community, that’s on you. I just think you should have a chance, y’know?”

The reasoning behind the trip was suddenly crystal clear. “Is that what this was all about? So Fury could determine what kind of living situation I wanted? He could have just _asked_ , the one-eyed asshole!”

“Hey, hey.” Clint’s arm was around her shoulders, pulling her against him. “I invited you here because _I_ thought you deserved a break, no one else, and I wouldn’t have invited you _here_ if I didn’t trust you. Let Fury interpret that however he wants, but I just…Nat, I thought you should have a chance. You’ve more than proved that you don’t belong in a cage and if that was all I could have taken you anywhere. But I brought you here. I brought you to my home with my wife and kids, because I know that you’re trustworthy.”

Everything she had ever believed about herself rushed forward to refute that statement. “I’m not…”

“Let me stop you right there. No matter what you think about yourself, I believe in you, and I believe you won’t ever say or do anything to hurt me and my family. Go ahead and prove me wrong.”

“Clint, I would never…”

“I know. I _know_ that, Nat. That’s what I brought you here instead of a week in Montreal or a beach vacation or some other bullshit. I brought you here so you can be part of something I don’t think you’ve had before.”

“Farm chores?” she offered lamely, no longer confident in what she was confronting. “Because I’ve definitely picked up the skills need to care for chickens, I think.”

He waited until she eventually met his smiling eyes to say, “Neither Laura or I have siblings, so the kids could use a fun Aunt to relieve the constant stress of parental expectations.”

“I don’t think I can…”

“Hey, you’ve got this. You can play action figures with Cooper, who’s totally on board by the way, and sing the little munchkin to sleep. You’re already light years ahead of the babysitters we’ve interviewed. It’s not like we’re hiring you as a nanny or asking you to be here for date-night childcare. We just want you to know that you’re a welcome member of the family. If you want.”

Natasha bit her lip as she thought about it. There had obviously been some texting going on if Clint knew about her singing to Lila, but he had also had the opportunity to talk to Cooper about adopting an aunt…

Her indecision lasted until Cooper appeared on the back porch to call, “Dad! Auntie Nat! Dinner!”


End file.
